


Crazy for You

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Baseball Player Derek, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sweet romance burgeons between pitcher Derek Hale and play-by-play announcer Stiles Stilinski despite a rocky start, a crazy ex and an addiction to Mr. Pibb soda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy for You

**Author's Note:**

> This, an AU with 100% humans set against the backdrop of the wonderful world of baseball, was a story I wrote last year for Hurt/Comfort Bingo when I was getting back into the swing of writing fanfiction. It probably falls into the category of sugary, but hey, the Mr. Pibb made me do it.

Stiles took a swig of his Pibb Xtra Cherry-Vanilla soda before asking his color analyst what he thought of the team. “So, Scotty, my man, do the Woodland Wolves even have a prayer this season?”

Scott, his best friend since the age of five, rolled his eyes at Stiles and pulled a face. “It’s early days, my friend. The bigger question is how you can drink so much Mr. Pibb and not weigh 300 pounds. Or rot all of your teeth.”

“I was blessed with a lightning quick metabolism and I brush my teeth ten times a day. No need to worry about me. No, I’m more worried about what’s going on down on the field. The pitching addition to our Wolves team seems to be struggling a bit.” 

Stiles gulped the last of his sugary sweet drink before setting the cup aside. He really was spoiled what with his favorite soda showing up at every home game with a cup filled with ice.

Turning his attention from one vice to another, Stiles admired Derek Hale who looked fantastic in the traditional tight knee breeches with high stirrups; every time he bent over to grab the rosin bag, the material clung to Hale’s extraordinary glutes causing Stiles’s crotch to tingle. The guy certainly had the right look but thus far he lacked the talent. Lots of flash and little substance.

Scott rolled his eyes yet again at Stiles as he took notice of the way Stiles’s attention lingered on the pitcher’s backside. Scott fired his IsoFlex stress ball at Stiles as he replied, “In Derek’s defense, he got in late last night. I think that trade caught everyone a little bit by surprise.” That was Scott, Mister Half Glass Full.

Stiles deftly caught the ball. “Well I’m happy to hear he has some sort of defense because he’s not displaying it on the field. Yet.” He felt he had to qualify that. He wanted the newest addition to the team to excel. He was also paid to put a positive spin on the home team; he just sucked at doing it. “I’m sure in his next outing we’ll see that much talked about curve ball.”

Sadly the play didn’t improve and the Woodland Wolves lost. However, Stiles was crushing hard on the team’s newest acquisition so the night hadn’t been a total loss.

-0-

Derek was exhausted. He’d never expected the Dodgers to trade him, at least not at this point in the season, and he was emotionally gutted. The fatigue from being up late to organize his move northward was catching up to him. He wanted sleep. Instead he had to placate Kate.

“Derek, doll, I just know you’re going to love it up here. I’m certainly going to love having you up here. Just think of all of the quality time we can spend together now.” Kate was a beautiful woman but more importantly, she was smart. Derek didn’t understand her need to play the simpering, flirty airhead.

She continued to talk but his mind drifted. Mentally he started making a list of the things he needed to do tomorrow.

A fist jabbed sharply into his left biceps. “Are you even listening to me? We have reservations so you need to get moving.”

Too bad Derek’s attraction to Kate had waned. He was going to have to break it off with her. He wasn’t looking forward to that scene as she definitely had a bit of a temper as evidenced by her smack.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I’m going to have to pass. I have a lot to get done.” The break up would have to wait. He would need his wits about him for that conversation.

He switched his internal attention back to his to-do list. The moving truck would be arriving tomorrow and he needed to figure out how to make his belongings fit into the condo the Woodland Wolves ownership had found for him. 

“Yes, Kate, let poor Derek get settled.” The primary stockholder of the baseball team, and Kate’s father, Gerard Argent, joined the conversation.

Before Derek could thank Mr. Argent for helping him with his lodging, two men approached, laughing loudly.

“Harrumph. I really should replace those two.” Mr. Argent glowered at the dark haired men.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy. Allison would never forgive you if you fired Scott. And Stiles is a cutie. And funny.” Kate threw her long hair over her shoulder, smiling at the newcomers.

“Derek Hale, meet Scott McCall. He’s the color commentator for the team. The man joined at his hip is Stiles Stilinski, our play-by-play analyst.” The owner’s tone was gruff.

Derek exchanged a solid handshake with the first man; he was shorter than Derek but his most noticeable feature was his wide smile, complete with dimples. “Welcome to Woodland, Derek. I know you’ll make a great addition to the team.” McCall certainly made a pleasant first impression.

Turning he went to shake hands with the other man but Gerald Argent was tugging him away, berating him. “I swear to God, Stilinski, if you don’t stop with all of the negative commentary I’m going to fire your ass.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“And stop shamelessly plugging that soft drink! They aren’t a paid advertiser.” Mr. Argent continued to grumble.

Kate leaned over and spoke softly in his ear. “Stiles drinks nothing but Pibb Xtra Cherry-Vanilla soda on-air. His fans call themselves the Pibbettes and keep him well stocked.”

“Come along, Kate. I’ll take you to dinner. Derek, it’s a pleasure to have you here. Boys, stay out of trouble.” With that Gerald Argent left the clubhouse, Kate’s arm tucked into his own.

“Sorry about that,” the other man rubbed the back of his neck nervously before extending his hand, “I’m Stiles Stilinski. I’m the black sheep of the team here.”

Derek stared into the largest, prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. They were the color of his favorite drink, bourbon, and the contrast against the pale skin was startling. Dark, sooty eyelashes batted at him and he felt his face suffuse with color. Derek might have most recently been dating a woman but he’d never hidden his attraction to men and he had a some males exes in his past.

Grasping the hand between both of his, he squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slide of skin against skin. Instant attraction sizzled, at least on his part.

The other man swallowed convulsively and Derek watched the movement, wondering what the man would like swallowing something else—like maybe Derek’s co—.”

“I, um, have to apologize. I might have said some things that were less than flattering about your performance tonight.”

Derek enjoyed the pink flush that stole over the man’s—Stiles’s—face. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Well, yeah. I mean you kind of sucked tonight. But hopefully that’s just because of the last minute trade and everything.”

Beautiful. Honest. Derek just might be falling for the Woodland Wolves’ play-by-play analyst.

Suddenly the trade up north was looking promising.

-0-

Stiles rushed into the restaurant, stopping just shy of the hostess. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet someone and I’m late.”

The woman smoothed her blonde upswept hairdo, tucking in a stray hair, before smiling. “You must be Stiles. Right this way.”

He tried not to freak out. Why must he be Stiles? How had Derek described him to the hostess?

They approached a secluded table in the back of the large dining room and as the hostess stepped aside, Stiles did an abrupt about face. Kate Argent was sitting at the table with Derek, whispering in his ear, looking very cozy.

Kate Argent scared Stiles. She was very beautiful but there was a glint in her eye that telegraphed crazy. Stiles had once said something to Scott to that effect but his friend had brutally reminded him that some people found Stiles crazy and that he should cut Allison’s aunt some slack.

“Stiles? That’s who you threw me over for, Derek? Really!” Great. Kate was pissed. 

Stiles turned back around. Her shocked tone had managed to set off Stiles’s competitive spirit. He might not be blond and beautiful but damn it, he was a Stilinski and he had charm.

Flicking a glance toward Derek, Stiles noticed Derek looked exceedingly uncomfortable. When the beautiful ball player mouthed, “I’m sorry” at Stiles, he realized this scene hadn’t been Derek’s fault.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Yes, Kate, really. Derek asked me to join him for dinner tonight. I didn’t realize you were joining us.”

The anger fled from Kate’s face to be replaced with a mischievous look. “Now that I think about it, this just might work. You’ve got that whole Bambi look working for you, you’re just adorable, and you have a fantastic ass. Come join us, Stiles.”

“Uh, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll talk to you later, Derek.” Before Stiles could make his exit, Kate was up on her feet, tugging him toward the table.

“Don’t be coy, Stiles. What do you say to a ménage à trois?”

Derek sputtered while Stiles reeled in place. When Stiles had been in college, a threesome was at the top of his bucket list. Now the thought left him faint. He had actually been interested in Derek but Crazy Kate was making him rethink things.

“To quote Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel, I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!” Stiles took an awkward step backward when Kate lunged to her feet, her features tightening into an unattractive scowl.

Derek was in his space, a hand on his back. “Please, Stiles. The break up with Kate was coming for a while and it was mutual. Don’t let her chase you off. Kate and I are no longer together and I’d really like the chance to get to know you better.” 

Despite his better judgment, Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes. His soulful, beautiful, hazel eyes. He was a goner. “I’m not really comfortable here. Do you think we could—”?

Liquid spilled over Stiles’s head, drenching him. “How dare you ignore me,” Kate spit out in a low voice. From anger to coyness to overtly sexual then back to anger. Cold anger. Kate was the very definition of the word mercurial. 

Derek put himself between Stiles and the Kate. “That’s enough, Kate. We’re no longer together and you’re making a scene.”

What an understatement. It was a good thing Derek made his living on the baseball diamond instead of in the booth because apparently the spoken word was not his strength.

It was Stiles’s strength and he opened his mouth to unleash some thoughts but Kate beat him to it. “You’ll regret this, Stiles. I’ll make you pay.” Her hips threatened to burst out of the extremely tight red dress as she stalked away.

The wine might have been delicious in the glass but upended over his head it smelled like vinegar. It was also sticky and uncomfortable.

“My place is close to here. Let me take you home and we’ll get you cleaned up and then we’ll order some pizza.” Derek ran a finger down Stiles’s cheek, rubbing the wine into his skin.

Stiles couldn’t decide if he found the gesture sweet or hot. He smiled and nodded. “My hero.”

-0-

Derek was disgusted with Kate’s behavior. He’d known she’d be unhappy about his decision but it had never occurred to him that she would follow him to the restaurant for his date.

It was a good thing Stiles had a good sense of humor. He cautioned himself to go slow; Kate had seemed to possess a good sense of humor, too, when they’d first met. 

The shower cut off and Derek realized he hadn’t put out clean clothing for Stiles like he’d promised. He was digging through dresser drawers, pulling out sweats and a t-shirt, when the door opened behind him.

Stiles stood in the doorway, steam billowing around him, a towel folded at his waist.

Derek gulped audibly. He’d suspected Stiles had a nice body but the other man’s style of dress had kept him guessing. No need to guess now. His shoulders were wide and tapered to a small waist. There was a light dusting of hair on his developed, but not overly so, pecs. His treasure trail was dark and mouth watering as it dipped over a taut stomach and beneath the white towel.

The other man was flushed a pretty pink and Derek didn’t think it solely had to do with the hot shower. He felt guilty for eyeing him like a piece of meat and set the clothing down on the edge of the bed. “Here are some clean things for you. I’ll order our pizza while you get dressed.”

He beat a hasty retreat into the living room and grabbed his phone, dialing up the pizza joint down the street that one of the other players had recommended.

Stiles entered the room as Derek hung up. The other man was still a sight to behold with his large feet gloriously bare, gray sweatpants that fit him snugly in all the right places and a faded baseball jersey-style t-shirt in light blue that was a bit too large, displaying prominent collar bones and lightly furred forearms. The sight of Stiles in his clothes was both sexy and sweet.

“The, um, pizza should be here in thirty minutes.”

“Do you really want pizza, Derek?”

“No. I want something else. But I also don’t want to rush this.”

Stiles smiled crookedly and it melted Derek’s heart. “I feel the same. Wanna see if there’s a game on we can catch while we eat? Maybe we can scope out some of your competition.”

Derek growled lightly, hoping Stiles meant competition on the diamond and not for his attentions. Stiles laughed at the growl and the two men collapsed on the couch, snuggling up close.

It was turning into the perfect first date despite Kate’s machinations.

-0-

Scott elbowed him in the stomach and Stiles winced. He’d been experiencing on and off pain, really more like burning, ever since he’d gotten violently sick yesterday. It had only been his third date with Derek and he’d really made an impression, just not the kind of impression he wanted to make. The stomach flu sucked.

“So when are you and Derek seeing each other again?” Scott didn’t care that Stiles was bi. His best friend seemed ecstatic that Stiles was interested in someone again. His break up with Malia had been brutal and it had taken him a while before he’d been ready to dip his toe back into the dating pool.

His stomach gave an unpleasant twinge. “After getting spectacularly sick at his place yesterday, I’m not sure he’ll ever want to see me again.” The nausea followed by vomiting and diarrhea had been awful. If he hadn’t felt so shitty, he’d have been embarrassed. Derek had brushed aside his concerns, spooning Pepto Bismol into him, despite Stiles’s worry that he would get the pitcher sick.

A sudden knock on the booth door made him jump. Scott opened the door to find a guy holding a long, flat box. “Delivery for Style Sils, Stils, um—“

Scott took the box. “That would be Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles gaped as his friend withdrew his wallet and gave the guy a five-dollar bill as tip before pushing him out of the door. Scott was a good guy but notoriously cheap. Allison must finally be rubbing off on him. 

“Since when do you tip—”? 

“Here.” Scott managed to sling the box right into Stiles’s sensitive gut again. “I’m guessing these would be from lover boy. I’m also guessing he still wants to see you. Now open them.”

Stiles set the box down on the counter and pulled the beribboned top off. Inside he counted twelve roses, brilliantly yellow tipped with red. “Falling in love.”

“What’s that, Stiles?”

“Yellow with red tipped roses, they mean falling in love.”

“How do you even know that? Never mind. They’re beautiful. What does the card say?”

_Hope you feel better._

_Love,_  
_Derek_

Stiles almost swooned and it wasn’t from the flu this time. Derek was the perfect guy. Intelligent. Great sense of humor. Fantastic body. Protective. Sweet. Beautiful, inside and out.

“Ugh. I’m not sure I like you tongue-tied. Here, have some of your Pibb. Maybe that will bring you to your senses. We need to be sharp tonight.” Scott handed the cup filled with ice and the can of soda to Stiles.

“And why is that Scotty?” He saw the bashful look on his friend’s face. “Oh my God! Are you finally going to pop the question to Ally?”

Scott blushed a deep red and looked down at the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah. Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Stiles pulled Scott into a hug. “Dude, she loves you! Of course she’s going to say yes. Are you proposing during the 7th inning stretch like we talked about? What’s your exact plan of attack? I need details.”

Stiles ignored his body’s signals of discomfort as he listened to Scott’s enthusiasm. Love was in the air.

-0-

“We don’t have to do this you know. It’s still early.” Stiles said from the passenger seat. 

Derek scowled and gripped the wheel of his Chevy Camaro. “You don’t want me to meet your father?”

“What? No! Of course I want you to meet him. I just don’t want you to feel pressured about it. Here’s our exit.” Stiles pointed to the sign on the freeway. Beacon Hills. 

Derek hadn’t been back this way since the fire. Their house had been outside the Beacon Hills city limits but he was familiar with the place.

Stiles sighed and Derek darted a glance his way. The man was still too pale and quiet but it took time to get over a flu that nasty. “You feeling okay?”

This time Stiles scowled. “I’m better.” He sat up straighter in the seat. Two lefts, a right and we’ll be there.”

Within five minutes Derek was pulling up in front of a two-story house. It looked like a nice, solid neighborhood. “This is the house you grew up in?”

“Yep,” Stiles replied, popping the p. “Here it is in all its glory.”

Derek held the door for Stiles and almost reached in to help him out but he didn’t think that would be appreciated. Stiles had been very patient with Derek’s need to coddle him but he didn’t want to blow it.

They walked into the house and Stiles bellowed, “Hey, Dad, we’re here!”

“Did you bring the beer like I asked?” Stiles’s dad yelled back, still sight unseen.

“Ugh. It’s in the car.” Stiles chucked Derek on the chin. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” He trotted out the door with more energy then he’d displayed since getting sick.

Someone cleared his voice and Derek wiped the sappy look from his face before turning around. Where the hell was Stiles? “Mr. Stilinski?”

“That would be Sheriff Stilinski.” The man was about as tall as Derek with bright blue eyes and fading blond hair. Stiles’s dad gestured to the gun at his hip and Derek’s eyes just about bugged out of his head.

The screen door slammed shut and the sheriff groaned. “Damn it, Stiles, don’t slam the door.”

“Dad! What the hell! Stop trying to scare my date off. And you wonder why I never bring people home to meet you.”

Derek was distracted as he stared at the sheriff. He’d been so wrapped up in his burgeoning relationship with Stiles, he hadn’t paid much attention to the clues staring him in the face. Stilinski wasn’t a common name and Beacon Hills wasn’t a big city. The connection had been there all along but he’d ignored it.

Stiles’s dad had been the first responder on the scene of the fire at his house. The then deputy had been kind and patient with Derek. Nothing could erase the horror of watching his family home burn down, parents and family still inside, but Derek had never forgotten the deputy’s kindness.

Stiles’s dad.

“You okay there, son?” The sheriff’s tone was as patient as Derek remembered.

Someone drew comforting circles on his back and Derek soaked up the attention. Stiles might be boisterous and loud at times but he also had a sensitive side and knew when to tone things down. “Let’s go sit down.”

Derek let himself be led to the couch where he sunk into its softness, Stiles close at his side.

“I’ve followed your career, you know. You’re quite the success story.” The sheriff continued.

Leaning into Stiles’s warmth, Derek found his center. He nodded at the man’s kind words. Gathering his courage he changed the subject, “I never did thank you for what you did that night. So, um, thank you.”

“You have no idea how hard it was for me not to bundle you into my car and bring you and your sister home that night. I sure was sorry to hear she passed away.”

Derek cleared his throat awkwardly. Before he could respond, the sheriff continued on. “Of course none of that means anything if you hurt my little boy. I’ve got quite the gun collection.”

While Stiles sputtered his outrage, his dad snorted and Derek burst into laughter. If the laughter bordered on hysteria no one said a word. Derek was grateful that the elder Stilinski had found a way to break the tension.

The man rose to his feet. “Why don’t we all head back to the patio. I’ve got the barbecue on and you can keep me company while I tend to the food.”

The man’s blue eyes sparkled as he looked at Stiles but he sparkle faded when his son didn’t say anything. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles was definitely pale and he had a hand clasped over his stomach. “Why don’t you two head outside and I’ll be there in a minute?”

Derek followed the sheriff who paused at a safe sitting on the kitchen counter, quickly gaining access and stowing his firearm. “Now that we’ve got the formalities taken care of, what do you say we crack open some of those beers?”

Once they were outside, cradling a couple of long neck Leinenkugel's Honey Weiss beers, Stiles’s dad skipped the small talk. “What’s going on with Stiles?”

“Five days ago he had the stomach flu, pretty violent stuff, and he still hasn’t recovered.”

“You didn’t catch it?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

Derek had prepared himself for the eventuality but the stomach cramps and other assorted symptoms never appeared. As far as he knew, no one else had come down with it either.

The door opened and Stiles joined them, bottled water in hand. “So whatcha got cookin’ Pops?”

“Ribeye steaks and baked potatoes.”

“Dad, you know you need to eat healthier.”

“Says the man-child who drinks that disgusting sugary soda.”

“In my defense, I don’t buy those sugary soda drinks. I had one Mr. Pibb one time on-air, Scott mentioned it and the fans seized on it.”

“Uh huh. And of course you never thought to decline said drinks?”

“I’m not one of your suspects so you can stop with the interrogation. All’s I’m saying is that a little bit of green roughage would do your body some good.”

Derek’s head snapped back and forth between the two men. It was like watching a tennis match between two opponents who had met on the clay many times with the non-stop volleys.

The sheriff continued, “Oh, like the big salad sitting in the fridge that I’m serving with our meal?”

“Da-ad.” Derek chuckled at the way Stiles drew the word out. “How did a salad make its way into your fridge? I’m pretty sure you didn’t invite it.”

Stiles’s dad barked out a laugh but he blushed a bright pink. “Melissa made it for me. Happy now?”

Stiles laughed with delight. He turned to Derek, “Melissa is Scott’s mom. Scotty and I have been trying to set those two up for about ten years.” Stiles slung an arm around his dad’s shoulders. “That’s great, Dad.”

“Now that Derek thinks we’re both escaped lunatics, can we move the conversation along?” The older man sighed theatrically.

Before Derek could comment on the two men’s antics, Stiles staggered. His bottled water dropped to the flagstone and rolled under a chair.

Derek was at Stiles’s side in two steps, grasping his biceps, peering into his face. The younger man was red in the face and his upper lip was coated with perspiration. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head and closed his eyes. “Whoa, got a little dizzy there for a moment. Maybe I need to get out of the sun.”

Derek shot an uneasy glance at Stiles’s dad. It wasn’t hot and they were already standing in the shade. He helped Stiles over to the chair, retrieving his water and handing it over. “Drink.”

In six gulps Stiles drained the bottle. His dad had gone into the house but now returned bearing another bottled water.

“Thanks.” 

Derek could tell Stiles’s dad wanted to grill him about how he was feeling but the other man just bit his lip. Derek found himself copying the movement in an effort to stifle his concern.

Stiles broke the silence first. “So tell me what’s been going on around Beacon Hills, Pops. Caught any interesting cases lately?”

“Well, son, if you’d put that criminology degree to good use you’d know what’s going on.”

Stiles snorted. “Have patience. Once I’m fired from my play-by-play job, I’ll get serious about crime fighting.”

“Wait, you weren’t a broadcasting major?” This was news to Derek. Although every time he talked to Stiles, he found out something interesting.

“Nah. Scotty was the broadcasting major. He needed someone to partner with him at his audition and I said I’d do it and the rest is, as they say, history.” 

Stiles’s dad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, history because Allison was on the team doing the interviews and she fell for Scott. Anyway it’s just a matter of time before Old Man Argent pops a blood vessel and cans you.” He snorted, eyes twinkling. 

“Daaa-ad.” Stiles sing-songed back but he was smiling. 

There were no pointed barbs or political secret agendas as far as Derek could see. Unlike his visits with Kate’s family.

At least Derek knew where Stiles got some of his mannerisms from—snorting, eye rolling, irreverent sense of humor. It was obvious the two men had a close relationship. 

Derek was warmed that these two men were including him in their easygoing banter. That Stiles had invited him home to meet his father. It felt like coming home.

-0-

Stiles was never comfortable at these high-class fundraisers. He hated wearing a suit—the tie was too restrictive and he didn’t feel like he could move freely in the suit jacket—and he was deathly afraid he was going to spill something on someone and cause an international incident.

The one saving grace in this madness was Derek. The man had only left his side long enough to get him water. Right now he was wending his way through the crowd, bottled water in each hand, looking sharp in his black suit, gray shirt and red tie. Scrumptious.

Also sweet. He handed Stiles a bottle. “Here. You don’t know how hard it was for me to get this to you, unmolested.”

Stiles batted his eyes at Derek. “Thank you for putting your lift at risk for me. You know, the cougars don’t paw me like they do you; you should let me get the drinks.”

“Nah. It’s my duty to provide for you.”

Cracking up, Stiles slugged him in the arm. “What a bunch of bull.”

Derek quirked a smile at him. “You know I enjoy taking care of you.”

The heat in the room notched up a few degrees. Stiles enjoyed it when Derek took care of him. Took care of him up against the wall. Took care of him on the table. “Yeah, I do enjoy your brand of care taking,” he husked out, voice lower than usual.

A pretty pink blush stole across Derek’s cheeks. “That’s not what I meant. But now that you mention it, I could go for some of that right now. How long do we need to stay?”

“Well Scott and I were supposed to do this routine we worked out but I may try to skip it.” Stiles sought out his friend from across the room and his face lit up with joy when he found him. “Come on, I want to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Derek was a good sport, letting Stiles tow him across the room. “Derek, I’d like you to meet—“

“Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Isaac, Boyd and Erica.” Derek finished his sentence. Stiles gaped at him. “I’ve known Boyd a long time. I met everyone else through him.”

“So we’ve been running in the same social circle and didn’t even know it.”

“Looks like.” Stiles smiled brightly. Derek had met his family—his dad and Scott—and already knew his other friends. Their lives were meshing with little effort.

It seemed too good to be true.

-0-

The emcee made an announcement about entertainment and Scott coaxed Stiles onto the dais. They began singing, hips swiveling, arms flapping and the crowd roared its approval.

The song tickled Derek’s memory but it wasn’t until someone cued up the actual music, Karaoke style, that he recognized it as some dreaded boy band single. 

If Derek ever heard that song again, at least he’d have the memory of Stiles pretend flipping his hair, hip cocked out to the side, while Scott serenaded him, “Baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed.”

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” Lydia shouted toward his ear. He nodded back politely but didn’t reply.

Lydia Martin was such a tiny thing—the phrase pocket sized Venus seemed to describe her well—that unless he bent over he wouldn’t hear her. He thought about ignoring her because of all of the people Stiles cared for this was the one that concerned him most.

Lydia was beautiful, intelligent, self-assured and knew Stiles better than he did. When discussing his friends, Stiles had copped to a self-proclaimed mega crush on the strawberry blond during high school that made Derek uneasy. What if she decided she wanted Stiles?

She was speaking again, interrupting his enjoyment of his boyfriend’s antics on the platform, and when she jabbed him in the solar plexus with her dainty elbow, she received his full attention. “What?”

“I said, Stiles is very important to me. If you hurt him I will make you sorry.” She blinked her large hazel eyes at him with a saccharine-y smile.

“Wow, you and the sheriff must get along very well,” he murmured. It was nice that Stiles had all of these people in his life sticking up for him but it was very daunting.

“You’ve met the sheriff already?” Lydia arched an eyebrow at him.

“Uh huh. The sheriff and his impressive gun collection” 

His response seemed to tickle the small woman and she laughed, eyes crinkling. “I think you’ll do, Derek.”

Half way through the performance, Stiles quit dancing, his hand on his chest. Scott whispered something in his ear. Stiles nodded, his legs dipping with Scott catching him around the chest. Derek’s heart thumped hard and he was already moving toward the dais when Scott set Stiles back on his feet before pushing him toward the edge of the platform; it had been a mock faint, just a part of the performance, but it had scared the crap out of Derek.

Stiles tripped off the platform but smirked as he pushed Isaac toward it. With calls of encouragement from the rest of the group, Isaac joined Scott to finish off the performance.

Derek only had eyes for Stiles as he trudged toward him. “You doing okay?”

“I, uh, think I over did things a little.”

“Stiles, I told you to go the doctor,” both Derek and Lydia chimed at the same time.

Stiles blinked at them both. “In stereo. That’s freaky. You can both simmer down, though. I saw the team physician earlier. He thinks it’s just a virus but he took a blood sample to run some tests. Let’s change the subject.”

“Fine,” Lydia said. “Malia sends her regards.”

Stiles’s color washed out and this time Derek was afraid the faint wasn’t going to be in jest. He wrapped his arm around Stiles’s shoulder, giving him something solid to lean against.

“Jesus, Stiles. Are you okay?” Lydia sounded as worried as Derek felt. “I told you she was just kidding about that whole castrating you thing.”

Stiles bobbed his head in agreement but he remained silent. Lydia snagged a waitperson wandering by. He quickly appeared with a chair and Derek wasted little time in settling Stiles on it.

Derek knelt down next to Stiles’s side. “Can I get you something?”

Stiles licked his lips, which Derek always found distracting. He pulled himself together though; this wasn’t the time or place for those kind of thoughts. “Maybe a water?”

Lydia snapped off orders to the waitperson before returning her attention to her friend. “Stiles, Malia Tate means you no harm.”

That got Derek’s attention. “Did you say Malia Tate?”

“Yes. Why? She’s Stiles’s ex and despite what he thinks, she isn’t mad at him anymore.” Lydia explained, her features tense as she surveyed Stiles.

“Well, you see, Malia is my cousin.” Stiles had only mentioned his ex, never said her name. 

“Your cousin? What a small world.” Stiles’s voice was faint. When a different waitperson appeared, bearing a cola in a glass with ice, Stiles clutched at it gratefully, sipping earnestly.

Applause in the background indicated the end of the Karaoke performance.

Lydia drew herself up to her full height, visibly displeased. “Excuse me, I requested water.”

The young man held the tray in front of himself like a shield. “I’m sorry ma’am. I was asked to deliver this Mr. Pibb to the young gentleman sitting here.”

Stiles perked up at that news. “Who sent the drink over?”

“The blond lady standing by the bar.” He made his escape before he could be grilled further.

Kate Argent was lounging against the bar. She lazily waggled her fingers at Derek before seemingly blowing a kiss at Stiles.

The glass tumbled from Stiles’s fingers, clanking to the carpet. Something complicated passed over his wan features before he clutched at Derek’s jacket. “It’s the Mr. Pibb. Tell my dad…”

Stiles slumped against Derek, sliding out of the chair altogether. Derek tried to arrange Stiles’s limbs more comfortably but they were lanky and seemed to have a mind of their own. Stiles’s lungs hitched making his breathing erratic.

Derek hadn’t known such terror since he’d watched his childhood home in flames.

“Stiles?” Derek patted his boyfriend’s cheek lightly but he didn’t rouse.

In the background Derek could hear Scott’s panicked voice, Lydia speaking calmly and laughter. 

He recognized the laugh.

Kate was laughing.

-0-

The steady beeping in his ear was an irritation to Stiles, like a buzzing fly. Damn alarm clocks were a nuisance.

He flicked his wrist out, trying to turn off the clock.

“I think he’s waking up, go get the doctor.”

Stiles knew that voice. Derek. His boyfriend.

Why didn’t his boyfriend turn off the alarm?

Wait. Did he say doctor?

Stiles managed to lift his eyelids, scrunching his face up at the brightness of the room.

“Derek? What’s going on?”

His boyfriend’s face popped into view. “Oh my God, Stiles. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Um, okay. But you’re going to have to clarify what _that_ is for me.”

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice seemed shrill to Stiles and he cringed back into the pillows.

“Scotty, please, not so loud.”

Someone cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Stilinski, I’m Dr. Vandenburg. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” 

“Like I have a hangover.”

“I would say that’s an improvement.”

“My head and stomach say otherwise. What happened?”

“It seems as though you were poisoned.”

The fogginess cleared and Stiles began to remember things.

Burning in his stomach. Tingling in his mouth and face. Numb extremities. Pounding chest. Kate Argent sending him a drink…blowing him a kiss…saying she’d make him pay.

“What did she use?” 

“Aconitum. Also known as wolfsbane.” The doctor explained as he shone a penlight in first one eye and then the other.

When the spots faded from his sight, he sought out Derek. “We have to stop her.”

“Lydia called your dad. He’s dispatched some deputies to take Kate into custody. Your dad will be here any minute now.”

Stiles let the tension drain from his body. “It was the Mr. Pibb all along.”

Scott chimed in, “Yeah, bro, you’re lucky Lydia bagged the glass as evidence. She is seriously bad-ass.” He leaned over and pulled Stiles into a gentle hug. “I’m going to go call your dad, let him know you’re awake.”

“Tell him I’m okay, would you?” Stiles looked at the doctor. “I am okay, right?”

His bland features rearranged themselves into a smile. “We had to administer activated charcoal to purge the last dose from your system. We used lidocaine to treat the ventricular arrhythmia. The good news is that initial tests show no permanent damage. You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles thanked the doctor who excused himself from the room.

“He’s right you know,” Stiles said to Derek, patting the side of the bed.

“He’s right about what?” Derek said as he perched his weight next to Stiles’s hip.

“I’m a very lucky man.” Stiles pushed himself up on his forearms, waiting a moment for the bed-spins to subside. When he was certain he wasn’t going to pass out or vomit, he launched himself into Derek’s strong arms. “I’m lucky because I have you in my life.”

Derek squeezed him tightly, rubbing his back. “But it’s my fault. Kate did this to you because of me.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s back as tightly as his weak arms would allow. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s Kate’s. Although I really think Crazy Kate is mentally ill and needs treatment. That’s not on you.”

The top of his head was tucked beneath Derek’s chin, his boyfriend nuzzling him him. “I love you, Stiles.”

“I want you to know,” Stiles spoke softly, his throat throbbing and his voice gravelly, “if I hadn’t just vomited up poison I would kiss you senseless, Mr. Hale.”

Derek’s chest rumbled with laughter. “I want you to know, Mr. Stilinski, that I will take a raincheck on that kiss. Just as soon as you’re out of here.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Stiles held on with all of his might, snuggling close. 

He certainly wouldn’t have volunteered to be poisoned but he felt as though his illness had brought he and Derek together more quickly and for that he had no regrets.

“I love you, too, Derek.”

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my beta--the incomparable feather_touch who makes my work so much better. And thank you for reading the story!


End file.
